The Facebook fiasco.
Stupid petition on Change.org begging Zuckerberg to appear before Parliament and the Senate. Why not just start a mass deletefacebook campaign. Not sure I really care - I never assumed facebook was anything other than what it appears to have been found out to be. As I commented on the Speccy's website - "In the last few weeks I have spent hours on the video-phone (how sci-fi is that?) talking to my son in Hanoi and an old friend on Naxos, for NOTHING. I have a blog on google full of self indulgent rubbish, and my entire life, accounts, first / only novel, poems (don't go there), is stored on Google Drive. I use facebook to advertise my wares, keep in touch with friends, share my obsessions (like the Speccy) for NOTHING. As far as I am concerned, if some idiot wants my "data" to try and "manipulate" me, please feel free - I am more than happy with the bargain. I don't think it's working however. I voted Bremain, Corbyn, and I won £50 off Paddy Power on D Trump getting elected. I may have lost the offer of an alms house (I am very poor) because of something I said on social media, somewhere, but that is a) my fault for saying it and b) the alms house charity's fault for looking and taking any notice."
Alms House - social media, police, CoOp - they still haven't had the guts, or just manners, to explain to me why they withdrew their offer.
At last the EU is talking about a turnover tax on the likes of Google,Amazon etc what I proposed on my blog several years ago (July 2013)
The Blind Watchmaker - biblical quotes all over (more than any other). The sheer wonder and miracle of our being / bodies. The crime of not caring for it (smoking).
Fixing my laptop. Several months ago, in a no doubt drunken moment I flung or dropped my laptop and broke the power connector. I have been carrying the fragment of plastic around with me for weeks (it broke off altogether in Bonnevaux) and I finally summoned up the courage to dismantle the laptop and try and fix the connector. Somewhat to my surprise, I did, and it worked. The connector is fixed, my laptop is re-assembled, and it's working. And I cleaned the screen.
Enjoying my caravan. I do genuinely feel at home, sitting in my caravan. Not just because it's tidy now, for the first time in months, and it's warm now the sun's shining, but because this is my future, in a way that however lovely, my room in Sweffling Hall Farm could never be. The almshouse might have been, and the caravan and dragging it to Naxos is definitely the horse called disappointment, but in a good way. It's exciting, it's risky, maybe even dangerous, it's uncertain and open ended - anything might happen. It's not safe, and obviously the sensible choice, but it is mine.
I watched "13 Minutes" last night, about Georg Elser, who tried (and only failed because Hitler left 13 minutes early) to blow up Hitler in November 1939. He was finally shot, in Dachau, on 9 April 1945, 2 months after the police chief who arrested and interrogated him was hung on piano wire for supporting the Stauffenberg plot. Elser acted completely alone, never implicated anyone else - they kept torturing him because Hitler wanted to know "who was behind it". He seemed unbelievably brave. And he was never really recognised as a hero of German resistance to Hitler (unlike Stauffenberg, who didn't make a move until 1944) because he was a loner and didn't fit into a neat pigeon hole. The cast of the film were excellent.
Perhaps Bonnevaux is the real "horse called disappointment".
Filing not flinging. Throwing out two very large crates of papers - mostly Top Trucks and Findfax accounts, but endless scraps, notes to and from Pol and Sukie, bits of poetry, random postcards and photos, emails to and from the children - kept some stuff (a lot of empty envelopes I suspect), notebooks. Still seem to have a huge pile of boxes to put in the caravan, and it's not as if when I get wherever I'll have anywhere else but outside to put it. I may have to do it all again. Or just chuck all of it, without even looking. It's not as if I've looked at any of it since I stuffed it in a draw in the tallboy in the shed at Wefan. Some interesting fragments - my essay on Nietzsche written at Ampleforth, a letter from Placid . . . wrenching, but cathartic too. Time to slough off an old skin. these scraps are just as much of a burden to me as I always say Wefan and all her things are to Pol (and she does at least have somewhere to keep it all).
I was looking forward to spending a sunny day making the table, but it's gone all cloudy and looks like it might rain.
Went into town and was very busy and spent £100. Printed the transfer forms for moving the Curtis Banks money (they've said they're doing it). Bought gas. Bulbs for the caravan. Came back and worked on the table.
Stupid petition on Change.org begging Zuckerberg to appear before Parliament and the Senate. Why not just start a mass deletefacebook campaign. Not sure I really care - I never assumed facebook was anything other than what it appears to have been found out to be. As I commented on the Speccy's website - "In the last few weeks I have spent hours on the video-phone (how sci-fi is that?) talking to my son in Hanoi and an old friend on Naxos, for NOTHING. I have a blog on google full of self indulgent rubbish, and my entire life, accounts, first / only novel, poems (don't go there), is stored on Google Drive. I use facebook to advertise my wares, keep in touch with friends, share my obsessions (like the Speccy) for NOTHING. As far as I am concerned, if some idiot wants my "data" to try and "manipulate" me, please feel free - I am more than happy with the bargain. I don't think it's working however. I voted Bremain, Corbyn, and I won £50 off Paddy Power on D Trump getting elected. I may have lost the offer of an alms house (I am very poor) because of something I said on social media, somewhere, but that is a) my fault for saying it and b) the alms house charity's fault for looking and taking any notice."
Alms House - social media, police, CoOp - they still haven't had the guts, or just manners, to explain to me why they withdrew their offer.
At last the EU is talking about a turnover tax on the likes of Google,Amazon etc what I proposed on my blog several years ago (July 2013)
The Blind Watchmaker - biblical quotes all over (more than any other). The sheer wonder and miracle of our being / bodies. The crime of not caring for it (smoking).
Fixing my laptop. Several months ago, in a no doubt drunken moment I flung or dropped my laptop and broke the power connector. I have been carrying the fragment of plastic around with me for weeks (it broke off altogether in Bonnevaux) and I finally summoned up the courage to dismantle the laptop and try and fix the connector. Somewhat to my surprise, I did, and it worked. The connector is fixed, my laptop is re-assembled, and it's working. And I cleaned the screen.
Enjoying my caravan. I do genuinely feel at home, sitting in my caravan. Not just because it's tidy now, for the first time in months, and it's warm now the sun's shining, but because this is my future, in a way that however lovely, my room in Sweffling Hall Farm could never be. The almshouse might have been, and the caravan and dragging it to Naxos is definitely the horse called disappointment, but in a good way. It's exciting, it's risky, maybe even dangerous, it's uncertain and open ended - anything might happen. It's not safe, and obviously the sensible choice, but it is mine.
I watched "13 Minutes" last night, about Georg Elser, who tried (and only failed because Hitler left 13 minutes early) to blow up Hitler in November 1939. He was finally shot, in Dachau, on 9 April 1945, 2 months after the police chief who arrested and interrogated him was hung on piano wire for supporting the Stauffenberg plot. Elser acted completely alone, never implicated anyone else - they kept torturing him because Hitler wanted to know "who was behind it". He seemed unbelievably brave. And he was never really recognised as a hero of German resistance to Hitler (unlike Stauffenberg, who didn't make a move until 1944) because he was a loner and didn't fit into a neat pigeon hole. The cast of the film were excellent.
Perhaps Bonnevaux is the real "horse called disappointment".
Filing not flinging. Throwing out two very large crates of papers - mostly Top Trucks and Findfax accounts, but endless scraps, notes to and from Pol and Sukie, bits of poetry, random postcards and photos, emails to and from the children - kept some stuff (a lot of empty envelopes I suspect), notebooks. Still seem to have a huge pile of boxes to put in the caravan, and it's not as if when I get wherever I'll have anywhere else but outside to put it. I may have to do it all again. Or just chuck all of it, without even looking. It's not as if I've looked at any of it since I stuffed it in a draw in the tallboy in the shed at Wefan. Some interesting fragments - my essay on Nietzsche written at Ampleforth, a letter from Placid . . . wrenching, but cathartic too. Time to slough off an old skin. these scraps are just as much of a burden to me as I always say Wefan and all her things are to Pol (and she does at least have somewhere to keep it all).
I was looking forward to spending a sunny day making the table, but it's gone all cloudy and looks like it might rain.
Went into town and was very busy and spent £100. Printed the transfer forms for moving the Curtis Banks money (they've said they're doing it). Bought gas. Bulbs for the caravan. Came back and worked on the table.
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